


Down the Briar Patch

by AnnieVH



Series: Rumple and the Spinsters [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:37:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Flora comes to Rumpel's rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Briar Patch

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Woodelf68 [tumblr]: Young Rumpel gets ensnared in a briar patch while searching for dye plants for his aunties. Trying to escape, he gets even more tangled and cut up by the thorns until he gives up, scared he'll never be found. Flora goes looking for him when he's still gone at dinnertime & surreptitiously uses her plant magic to help free him without any further injury. Cue comforting & reassurance. (If Fauna's got animal-related magic, then Flora must have plant magic, right?)
> 
> Still taking prompts, so PM or comment if you'd like to give me one :)

_You are too far in._

_They won't find you._

Rumpel tried to breath slowly, but it was getting harder and harder. Aunt Flora always told him panicking never solved anything. But she never did tell him how _not_ to panic in a situation like this.

He tried to move again, but his clothes only got more tangled up in thorns and vines.

_You're only making it worst._

_You'll never get out of here._

_They won't find you._

Rumpel shuddered and struggled, but it was to no good.

He blamed his stupid body. Stupid _growing_ body that couldn't stay the same for two _stupid_ weeks. He had crawl down that briar patch thousands of times before. What was different now? An inch? Was he putting on weight? Didn't feel like it. He was still the smallest child in the village, and Aunt Fauna was always saying he was “such a scrawny thing” whilst stuffing his plate with food.

He didn't feel different, but he clearly was. Enough to get trapped.

_You're too far._

_No one will see you._

_They won't find you._

The best dye plants were just on the other side, and his aunts loved those. Specially Aunt Flora. She always said their hovel needed a little more color. And now that they had a younger body to go and fetch them plants, she found it much easier to dye the wool with alarming colors. Much to Aunt Fauna's chagrin.

“How did I ever get anything done before you got here, dearest?” Aunt Flora often said. And Rumpel never knew how to reply to that.

_They're not going to find you._

_Who says they are even looking for you?_

A chill ran down his spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold night crawling up on him.

They would notice he was gone.

At the very least, they would notice the plants were not there.

_They will also notice one less mouth to feed._

Rumpel squirmed and kicked and whined.

It didn't help.

He was trapped in there, with no way out.

And no one was looking for him.

 

* * *

 

Flora prayed it was nothing but the first signs of teenage rebellion. That he was only trying the limits of his curfew.

“Normal boyish behavior,” that was what she had said to Fauna, trying to calm her down.

“He doesn't do that,” Fauna had said, voice so even and expression so unperturbed that she'd have looked like a rock to anyone else. But Flora knew her too well. It was in the way her fingers gripped her own hips, the way her mouth turned into a thin, tight line.

Flora lied again. A good lie. She didn't want Fauna to worry. Or to storm out of the house in an unplanned search – the woman had many virtues, but was too impulsive for her own good. And had a terrible sense of direction. She decided she'd go out and look for him, and Fauna would stay behind in case Rumpel came back. She wasn't happy about it, but they both agreed Flora was the best tracker between them. And, if it came to that, the forest was _her_ territory.

Back home, she had kept worry out of her face, but now it was written on every wrinkle. This was not like Rumpelstiltskin. He was a good boy. Never wanted to give them any worry.

In fact, she _wished_ he was the king of boy who gave them trouble. She wished he were the kind of child who tried their limits. But he lacked the confidence to do that. Five years he had been under their roof and he was still waiting for them to get fed up with him for no reason and kick him out. Flora thought that he'd grow out of it, but it seemed that, no matter how much he had grown to like them (even, she hoped, _love_ them), it had only gotten worse with each passing year. And maybe that had been their own fault, with all that talk of apprenticing with anyone else in the land. And they had given him a magic bean, for goodness sake. Doesn't exactly make an eight-year-old feel welcomed.

Finding his tracks in the dark was difficult, but her eyes were still very keen. Soon, she was looking into a briar patch, squinting her eyes.

“Rumpel!” she shouted, though her voice was still sweetened, as if afraid that screaming too loud for her child would offend the trees.

Within the darkness of the briar patch, there was no movement. But that was where his trail ended.

“Dearest, are you down there?” she insisted. In the silence that followed, her heart started pounding even faster. If he didn't reply, she didn't know what she'd do. Go back and organize a search party? Or maybe resort to old friends-

“Auntie?”

Flora jumped. “ _Rumpel_?”

His voice came again. So meek. So _hurt_. “Auntie?”

“Yes!” she said, urgent, peeking through the vines, trying to get a glimpse of him. “Yes, dearest, I am here! Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” said that same small voice.

“Can you-can you come out of there?”

“Auntie, I'm stuck,” he said. Flora could hear an edge of desperation coming into his voice.

“No, don't panic, dearest, is alright. I'm here now.”

But her own voice was breaking. She couldn't see a thing. And he was so further down.

“Why-why don't you tell me what happened?” she said, looking over her shoulder.

“I was just searching for plants,” he said. She could hear his small voice clearly. Maybe he wasn't completely out of reach. “And the thorns, I don't know, I got caught in them.”

Beyond the light of her lamp, she couldn't see a thing but thorns. And she wouldn't fit in there, not with that dress. “Can you turn?”

“I can't _move_ , Auntie!”

“No, Rumpel, it's alright,” she reassured him, hearing his voice slip into panic again. “It's alright. I'm right here and I'm getting you out.”

“How?”

She looked around again. Settled her lamp on the floor. It was the middle of the night and no one ever came to that part of the forest.

And her boy was _hurt_.

“Rumpel, listen, don't worry. I'm getting you out of there.”

There was a beat.

Then, “You're too far.”

“No, I'm not, I can, uhn...” She looked around. “I can cut some of the vines from here.”

His voice broke into a sob. “But you're _too far_.”

“No, I can do it. Just-just trust me. Do you trust me?”

He didn't reply.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she insisted, “do you trust me?”

He was still crying. But she heard a very faint, “Yes.”

“Close your eyes.”

Though he was still scared, he sounded puzzle when he asked, “Why?”

“Because I said so,” she said. Rumpelstiltskin didn't have a mother, but he was sure, maybe by instinct, that Aunt Flora sounded just like mothers did when she said that. Because it made him feel safer. She repeated, “Close your eyes, dearest, and everything will be alright.”

Flora took her spindle out of her pocket, and Rumpelstiltskin saw it shining in the moonlight, though he had no idea what that was. However, the moment he closed his eyes that curious thought was gone from his mind. He just lied on the dirt and waited.

Very slowly, he could feel the vines moving. Not loosening up, but letting go of him altogether, one after the other. He listened carefully for Aunt Flora's knife, but couldn't hear it.

“Auntie-”

She didn't give him the chance to speak. “I'm almost done, Rumpel. Don't worry.”

He breathed deeply and the thorns that were hurting his chest were not there anymore.

“There. See if you can move now.”

Not only could he move, he was rushing out of there as fast as his limbs could take him.

In a second, he was out of that briar patch and into her arms, as if that was the most natural place for him to be. She held him tight, not even feeling the thorns pricking her from his clothes and skin.

“You are alright,” she said, breathing the words out. “You are alright.”

He panted and squeezed her and she could feel his young heart drumming a panicked rhythm against her chest. His tiny frame was shaking and she had no idea if that was the sound of him sobbing on her shoulder, or finally breathing in relief, but it was proof of life and it soothed her.

“You are alright,” she insisted. And then she realized she had no idea if that was true or not. “You are, right?” she asked.

He tightened his arms around her. “I thought you wouldn't find me.”

She ran a hand through his hair. “There, there. It's alright. Here, look at me.”

He loosened his grip, but kept his hands on her shoulders, too afraid of letting go. As if the vines that had entrapped him before could suddenly pull him back down the briar patch and keep him there forever.

Flora wiped away tears and dirt and waited for his breathing to go back to normal – as well as her heart to return to a regular pace – before asking again, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” he answered, more out of instinct than anything else.

Flora rubbed his back. “You feel like a needle cushion.”

That made him laugh. A quiet laughter, but a nice sound nonetheless.

“We can pull them out,” she said, making it sound like hours of pulling thorns out of his skin would not really be that bad. “Lets go home. Your Aunt Fauna must be worried sick by now.”

They got up and started back to their house, Rumpelstiltskin keeping close to her. After a few steps, much to her surprise, he reached out for her hand.

He never did that, not even when he was younger. Physical contact seemed to throw him off. She surely wasn't expecting him to become more affectionate now that he was getting older. In fact, judging by what she could see from the children of her friends, it seemed to go the other way around.

And yet, there he was, holding on to her hand.

Flora tried not to be too hopeful, but that seemed like a good sign.

Perhaps he liked her.

Perhaps he trusted her to guide him in the dark and show him the way home.

 


End file.
